<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Reality in the Re:Making by Sorrowfulthread</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24805237">Reality in the Re:Making</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorrowfulthread/pseuds/Sorrowfulthread'>Sorrowfulthread</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Universe Watches [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>??? - Freeform, Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, In which I project all my feelings about KH characters onto Sora, Introspection, Just angst kinda, MCD is... not real?? kind of?, No beta we die like Sora, Post-Kingdom Hearts III, Post-Kingdom Hearts III - Re Mind DLC, So Much Speculation, Speculation, Time Loop, Warning: fic literally has no purpose other than to make references to Portal 2 and ASOUE, can be read as a stand-alone, how did this get so long, you silly billy this is a kingdom hearts game no one can die</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:15:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,991</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24805237</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorrowfulthread/pseuds/Sorrowfulthread</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sora considers his options. He is but a boy trapped in an unfamiliar world, trying to survive, so he will do what he can to get away.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Universe Watches [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1730749</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Hand in the Fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was supposed to be a sequel to<a>The Deluded God</a> but somehow became the longest thing I’ve ever written. I mean in my mind it is a follow up but it can be a stand-alone, and TDG is only like 700 words anyway. The part in the tags about this having no purpose is a lie; I realized while making the final edits it is a prequel to my VERY ELABORATE Post KH3 headcanon that I might write more of, but will likely never write in its entirety (Mostly because I am the only thing slower than KH canon).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Yozora staggered backwards, Sora held his breath. Leaping into the air, he swung his keyblade down as hard as he could. When he delivered the final blow, he could hardly believe it. </p><p>Yozora… Sora breathed heavily as he stood over him, keyblade in hand. His keyblade Yozora had stolen, <em>how could he—</em> slowly, Yozora got back up, though hardly seeming unstoppable.<em> One step,</em> Sora thought. If he moved one step, so would Sora. One step closer to ending this. </p><p>But, rather than advancing towards Sora, the man looked down at his hand, which, to Sora's slight horror, was beginning to dissipate into light. “I guess… that my powers aren’t needed yet.” he said. His voice was almost regretful.</p><p>Sora relaxed his stance, but only slightly. “What do you mean?” he asked. </p><p>Yozora smiled at him, “Nevermind,” but Sora could barely hear him over how much it hurt, hurt more than any of his blows. His smile reached into Sora’s mind and pulled forth images of steady hands rowing a boat, the softening notes of a lullaby as a hand ran through his hair. Just those impressions were enough to make his heart leap into his throat. <em> Help me, </em> he begged, but to who? <em> I’m scared and I might be dead and I don’t know what to do, just tell me what to do— </em></p><p>But Sora also wanted to live, so he stayed back and watched as Yozora vanished in a flash of bright light. He shielded his eyes on instinct, but when he opened them, he was back in the Final World, as brightly lit as it was the first time he arrived there.</p><p>What… what had happened?</p><p>Sora closed his eyes. Kairi. Xehanort. <em> There’s a high price to pay for all of this. You yourself will vanish from this world. </em> Tears rolling down Kairi’s face as he told her <em> it’s okay, none of this is your fault, I chose this— </em></p><p>Then he’d woken up in the Final World, only it was dark and quiet and he was completely alone. </p><p>Alone, except for one.</p><p>Sora took a deep breath. Even with his bearings, he was only skimming the surface of what had happened. A million questions, some of which he thought he’d buried on Destiny Islands, resurfaced. <em> What’s going to happen? What did Xehanort mean? What’s going on? </em> He felt like a rock floating on a vast ocean, only occasionally dipping into the terror lurking below before being expelled upwards again, left hungry for more answers. </p><p>Well, Sora wasn’t the only one looking for answers, was he? “Hey!” he called out into emptiness. He looked around. Was he just as isolated here, as he was in the night version of the Final World? He recalled the Star with No Name, her strong voice tempered by loneliness. What he wouldn’t do to help alleviate that pain, if only for a moment. “I found him! Yozora!”</p><p>There was no response. How far could stars hear? Sora wondered. How far could they travel? </p><p>Huh. Sora pursed his lips and slowly rocked on the heels of his shoes. “I’ll come find you.” he said. The only question was how? By wandering aimlessly through this place with no directions and no end?</p><p><em> Oh, you mean know in my heart he will return? Without any proof? </em> The Star had asked him, and Sora almost thought she was mocking him. Still <em> , you have to believe </em>, he’d told her in response. </p><p>Because that was all she— and now Sora too— had, wasn’t it? Believe. Believe like Riku had believed in him, like Kairi had believed in him. </p><p>Belief persevered, they persevered, and that belief carried them through to the end, so how could Sora not now? A new spring in his step, Sora chose a direction and began walking.</p><p>(If he weren’t so single-mindedly determined, he would notice that he never got tired, his shoes remained completely dry, he never felt cold or thirsty or anything real—)</p><p>Belief started to crack as the blue sky began fading into shades of orange twilight. Even though he had been walking for what seemed like hours, he hadn’t seen anything, no Stars, not even the little pieces of himself that he had left behind the first time (Sora tried not to think about what <em> that </em> meant). Time slipped through his grasp like rain slipped through the clouds. </p><p>What would night bring? Sora wondered, as the sun began its descent beneath the skyline. The other Nobodies of Organization— Luxord, Xigbar, Saïx, Marluxia and Larxene— all of them died with the sun in the keyblade graveyard. What sun and what future greeted them when they woke up again as Somebodies? </p><p>Sora shook his head. With Xehanort defeated, the future was unknown. To not know was terrifying, but it held hope, too. Whatever was waiting for him in the future, he would take it head on.</p><p>He didn’t have to wait long. “Hey,” a familiar voice said. “Hey.”</p><p>Sora spun around. “Who’s that?” he asked. It sounded like— but it couldn't be, hadn’t he disappeared?</p><p>“Where are you?” No, it <em> was </em> Yozora’s voice, those <em> were </em> Yozora’s footsteps. </p><p>“Over here,” he called, voice a lot less cheerful than the last time. Maybe Sora could get some more answers as to what was going on, though considering his track record that wasn’t likely. He walked slowly towards the voice, squinting ahead, trying to see if there was any difference between the last time that those words had been spoken.</p><p>“I see you.” No, there really wasn’t, Sora realized. Yozora still had the same confident posture, same clothes, and same stern expression as the last time they met. </p><p>“Hey, didn’t you—”<em> I saw you </em> disintegrate <em> , how are you back?  </em></p><p>“You know me—?” Yozora cut him off. Just like last time. <em> What is going on? </em></p><p>“You’re still Yozora, right?” Sora asked cautiously. What had the Star said? <em> His heart replaced by another's?  </em></p><p>“How do you know that? Who are you?” he asked.</p><p>“I’m Sora, don’t you remember me? There’s something I want to ask you.” <em> What happened to you? There’s someone who misses you, do you remember her? Why did you attack me? </em></p><p><em>Yozora, </em>he thought, his heart full of pain. <em>What happened to you? </em></p><p>“Sora? You’re Sora?” Not phrased as a confirmation, but as a question. </p><p>“I… So you <em> don’t </em> remember me.” Sora concluded. He thought of Xehanort, the young version of him, how he was doomed to go back in time and live out his same life, to die over and over but to never find release, not even knowing it before it was too late. Was it the same for Yozora? </p><p>“I’ve heard of you.” he replied evenly, as if it wasn’t occurring to him that something was <em> wrong, wrong, wrong </em>, as loud and clear as a tower bell. </p><p>“If you’ve just heard of me, this can’t be the real world, can it?” Was… this like what happened at the Keyblade Graveyard, where all the Guardians perished? A reversal of time? But who did it, and why? </p><p>“Are you done?” Yozora asked, his voice the same, his exasperation the same, everything the same— “No, this isn’t the real world, and I am here.” </p><p><em> But this isn’t what you really look like, </em> Sora thought, Yozora repeated those same cryptic words. “How’d you recognize me as Yozora? Why are you using Sora’s name?”  Was the same sense of wrongness creeping up on Yozora as well, or was that only Sora’s imagination? If he did, he did a great job of hiding it. </p><p>“Because…” He racked his brain, trying to come up with something better than <em> I am Sora </em>. Why didn’t he lie the first time, introduce himself as anyone else? He should have caught on earlier.</p><p>A sudden thought struck him. This was just the second time, or was it? Or was it the hundredth or thousandth, lost to the possibly endless annals of memory? And memory could lie, wasn’t Naminé and Marluxia proof of that?</p><p>If he couldn't trust history, couldn't believe in the past... what could he believe?</p><p>“If you are who you are, and it was fate that brought us here… then, my path is clear.” No! He had taken too long to think! To Yozora, it seemed as though silence was answer enough, because it was. Sure enough, his deadly crossbow appeared with a flash by his side. </p><p>Oh. Oh no. Sora was not doing this again. Sora summoned his keyblade just as Yozora pointed his crossbow at him, ready to guard. </p><p>If they were going to fight again, Sora was not going to be caught off guard again. Whatever it takes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sora: feeling bad for everyone that tries to kill him since 2002.</p><p>Second part coming... soon?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Foot in the Grave</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Sora heard his voice again, he didn’t hesitate. He just bolted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,”  Yozora said, and his voice is louder, somehow. If he were any closer, something in Sora would burst, whether his heart as it hammered </span>
  <em>
    <span>faster faster, you can’t stop, not for a second</span>
  </em>
  <span> or his eardrums and he drew ever so closer, Sora could hear the hum of his blade, the click of his crossbow, his words loud and clear as if Yozora were speaking right in his ear,</span>
  <em>
    <span> right there right there—</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sora drowned it all out in the rapid splashes as he ran. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see you,” Yozora said. The same words over and over again, an actor sticking to a script, who wound not break character under any circumstances. Only this wasn’t an actor, this was real.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A bright glow emanated from the ground underneath him, and Sora felt a rumble as a circular platform all too familiar to him began to rise. The first time, Sora had stood there, both blinded by the light and frozen by the stained glass beneath him, because how could Yozora—?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now, after the— twentieth?— he couldn’t even keep track, just like he’d feared— Sora leapt off without hesitation, knowing that the ground that met him would not be the skies of the Final World, but cold, hard asphalt that sent spikes of pain up his legs if he landed wrong. He took off without looking back, pushing himself to go faster, faster, knowing that Yozora was right behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was not enough. It hadn't been enough since Sora started trying to run, desperate to put any distance at all between himself and Yozora, scrambling for any situational advantage he could get, whether that be on top of buildings or between thickets of trees. There were no maps in any convenient chests to be found. Sora was a stranger in this city Yozora seemed to know like the back of his hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t have to fight!” he shouted to Yozora on their third battle. He ignored how the loud clash of his blade against Yozora’s rang up his arm, rattling his bones and his own belief in the words. “Please!” Yozora did not respond, merely went in for another strike that Sora barely dodged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean, save Sora?” he asked on their seventh. “Save him from what?” He received not an answer but a deep graze from a crossbow bolt on his shoulder. Sora bit his lip and blocked as Yozora came rushing at him again, relentless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By some miracle, Sora had won so far, but Yozora never seemed to remember that. He had been transported back to the Final World each time, as full of light as it had been the first time he had been there. He would wander through the seemingly endless skies and oceans, with nothing but the feeling of creeping dread as the sun lowered and lowered, and Yozora would find him again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would say his lines, he would chase, and they would fight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yozora was terrifying in a way Xehanort wasn’t. His main interest lay forging the X-blade and reigniting the Keyblade War, only interested in Sora because he stood in the way, or could be useful. But Yozora— he was single-minded in his pursuit of destruction, and all that focus was on Sora. It was both all Sora needed to know, and yet left him in total mystery. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sora hadn’t done background research on Xehanort so much as hurled himself into the thicket of the library and burned through whatever he needed to. He knew what the man wanted, and what he would do to achieve it. He was hazy on the details, sure, but everything rushed into a horrifying clarity at that moment at that graveyard, when Xehanort ran his blade through Kairi.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Though two boys, neither much older than him, at the core of what was two mortal men, told Sora he did not know the whole story.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Is any of this for real, or not? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Those words… Sora could not tell, not even now, if those words were his own or someone else’s. It wasn’t something 14 year old Sora would think, or was it? It had been so long, or at least it seemed like it had been so long, since that night. Almost like it was… what was it? </span>
  <em>
    <span>A scattered dream that's like a far off memory, a far off memory that's like a scattered dream. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except… there were no pieces to line up anymore. Roxas had Xion and Axel now, their own pieces free to align and futures free to share. Ventus and Aqua and Terra were free too, never to fall under Xehanort’s cruel shadow again. Riku and Kairi… they would have each other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe his mind had started to slip before he even knew it, and the cracks were only showing just now. After fighting the same person over and over, defying time and death for just one more chance, he was finally done in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sora shook his head. There was no use thinking that now. As long as he had his friends, his ties to them, he would be fine. His heart would remain strong. He had something to fight for. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sora raised his hand in front of him. No matter how hard he tried there was no avoiding this fight, he knew that. He closed his eyes, expecting his keyblade to appear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t come.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Time slowed to a still. There was no familiar weight settling in his hand, no song of joy from his heart. It just wasn’t there. Was this the nothingness that Xemnas spoke of? Or a piece of the abyss he was doomed to, like Young Xehanort had said? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His keyblade would not come. It came at him like a truck, slamming down and breaking some sort of unknown mental barrier between him and his situation. Sora had nothing. Not his friends. Just an empty, hostile city and a man out for blood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What good was he like this?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why now?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He almost screamed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why again?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hadn’t he proven that he was worthy? He had restored all the hearts he imprisoned, saved his friends, helped take down Xehanort and close Kingdom Hearts. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What more do you want? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then again… his was a stolen power, snatched from others for the near destruction of everything. It was a whisper that had been with him since the Kingdom Key chose Riku in Hollow Bastion, briefly subsided when Xemnas was finally defeated and they had escaped from the Realm of Darkness, only to come rushing back after the Mark of Mastery Exam, and again in overwhelming waves when Xehanort won before ever lifting a finger at that Graveyard. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Was there really any other way this story would end?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You’ll lose your powers. You won’t be able to use the power of waking. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Was it fate? he wondered. Maybe he and Xehanort weren’t so different after all being strung along by the invisible strings of destiny to an end neither expected. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Yozora weren’t around the corner, Sora would have fallen to his knees and screamed. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Nothing like fighting the same battle over and over and over to start making you question your sanity, eh?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Heart in the Gutter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's the moment I've been waiting for! The reason this fic exists! Hope you're caught up on Portal 2 and ASOUE everyone, because it's reference time!</p>
<p>Also this headhops randomly at the end and I'm sorry</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Psst!” a male voice called from beside him. Sora jerked around to see a figure in a hauntingly familiar black coat waving teasingly at him from the inside of a car. The engine rumbled, a low noise ripping through the empty city. “Do you need a taxi?” the man asked, gesturing towards the black car, as sleek as the man’s coat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You— who are you?” Sora demanded, crouching down on instinct. Sure, he didn’t have his keyblade, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t go out kicking and punching and screaming. “Are you with the Organization?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The figure waved a hand in a dismissal of his question. “Not sure?” he asked instead. There was something familiar in the playful lilt of his tone. It reminded Sora of a spider, grinning sweetly at its prey, caught a sickly sweet web of lies. It was the same tone that had always tagged behind him at every turn in his journey. “Isn’t there something you need to do, or someplace you need to go?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even metal clangs rang from the rooftop above him. Sora looked up, his eyes landing at Yozora standing on the edge of the top of a building not a few meters away. His eyes never wavered from Sora’s, but he turned his head slightly, as though he were contemplating a way down. Sora briefly wondered if he was determined enough to jump from that high before turning back to the driver. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just want to get away?” the man replied, unperturbed by Yozora’s presence. He pushed a button from his seat, and a click came from the passenger seat. “Step on in, we’ll go for a ride.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sora glanced one last time back at Yozora. The man was crouching, as if he were going to jump. The man tapped at the wheel in a show of impatience, but to Sora it seemed like he had all the time in the world. He swallowed. It was certain death against… what? Uncertain death? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are we going?” Sora said, opening the door and sliding into the passenger seat. The man stepped on the pedals and sped off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The figure shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m just the driver. Where do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to go?” he asked. He leaned back in his seat, nestling one arm on the backrest, one hand still on the wheel, but Sora could catch the glimpse of a blue eye underneath his hood meeting his in the rearview mirror. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I—” Sora looked back through the rear window of the car. Yozora was barely noticeable at this distance, his presence only made known by the red and blue lights catching on his white hair and the glow of his orange sword, both stark in the otherwise dark and dead city. He tried to ignore the feeling of dread that remained. “How far is the ocean from here?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The ocean?” the man replied. “Well, there’s a really nice beach about 30 minutes from here. But for you—” the driver suddenly snapped to attention, sitting ramrod straight as he reached out a hand in front of the windscreen. “I’ll make an exception.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sora swallowed. He couldn’t help but feel like he had leap out of the pot and into the fire. “On second thought, I think I’ll take my chances.” he reached for the silver door handle of the car only to discover it had vanished, leaving a smooth patch of warm black leather. He looked up out the window and saw that the city wasn’t there at all, replaced by an endless stretch of sand and rushing blue waters. Waves crashed onto banks of sand and sea salt clung in the air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, up and at them.” the passenger door clicked again before swinging open automatically. The tears almost came to Sora’s eyes as he stepped out. The soft crunch of wet sand giving way underneath his footsteps. Without thinking, he crouched down and dug his fingers through the sand, relishing in the coarse grains that twinkled like distant stars on his skin. If he closed his eyes, he could hear their laughter and footsteps as they raced, and swishes and shouts of glee as a frisbee was exchanged, low murmurs of good people he would never get to know. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How long? he thought. How long had he fought for this, to be able to go back home without a war hanging over his head? To feel the wind tug at his hair without the persistent tug of duty, three beloved hearts within his own? To rest peacefully, knowing that it would never again be rendered to pieces by a vengeful old man with the stolen powers of a god? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… thank you.” Sora said as another pair of footsteps joined him. No, this place wasn’t home, not quite. The humidity he had never noticed until he first went off world wasn’t there, and the grains of sand were just this side of too pale, like the world was tilted off center ever so slightly. Or maybe, Sora thought, it was him that was a little off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm? Oh, it’s nothing. Besides, it's the least you deserve.” the man said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sora blinked. “I… deserve?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See, I’ve got a bit of a problem. There’s a false light where darkness is supposed to be. That’s not how the story goes, but history has already been rewritten. There’s really no elegant solution here. Believe me, I wish there was.” There was a soft, kind note of regret of his voice that ran chills down Sora’s spine like knives. “An ending like yours should have been beautiful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, Sora was flung backwards, like a frame of a movie that had suddenly cut to the next scene. His instinct was to cry out, but his lungs refused to contract or relax around the giant keyblade in his chest. Straining, Sora lifted his head, though for what he didn't know. Narrow blue eyes in the head of a goat stared back at him, framed with elegant spikes of black and silver. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Xehanort’s keyblade.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had been terrifying in the old man’s hands even before, but now it filled Sora with a slow dread he could not understand. Even its mere presence exuded a sinister presence, not darkness, but something almost as unfathomably old and powerful. Somehow, he could tell that it had seen far more than Sora could ever imagine, waiting patiently until it was finally back where it belonged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blue eye dangling from the handle twitched, delighted, as the other end dug further into Sora’s chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sora gasped. The hooked point of the keyblade pressed against the </span>
  <em>
    <span>outside</span>
  </em>
  <span> of his back, scratching like a claw. It had gone clean through, sparing nothing in its path to reach the other side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, the best solution to a problem is usually the easiest one. And I’ll be honest,” The figure’s voice was suddenly much more serious, as if he had shed away all the jokes to cold, unyielding steel. “Killing you? Is hard. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> is easy,” The figure yanked his keyblade out with all the grace of removing a pin from a pincushion. Now free, Sora let out a cry and he curled into the wound. He thought he could hear a soft drip as tears dripped onto the sand, unable to feel anything but a burning, gaping pain in his chest. With shaking fingers, he reached for where his heart would be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was nothing there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the back of his mind, he heard stained glass shatter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that’s that.” The figure said. He turned and began to walk away, dismissing his keyblade with a flick of his wrist. “Goodbye, Sora.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What…” Sora said, but it came out a whisper. He reached out a trembling hand, bracing himself as he pulled himself upright, one last act of defiance against the end. “How…” he gasped out, collapsing back onto his knees. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The figure’s retreating back paused, one heel comically raised. “Oh! It’s the strangest thing. I almost forgot!” Despite his words, his voice was firm, as if he were acting on a decision he’d made long ago. “No, your story isn’t over yet. You could be useful.” Sora didn’t even have enough energy to question the words as the strange figure stepped forwards. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t know pride,” he said, “you don’t know fear.” The figure crouched down. Even then, he towered over the boy, who could do nothing but tremble as life drained from his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His light was so incredibly bright, the Master thought. It was a shame he would die kneeling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t know anything,” the Master settled a gloved hand on the boy’s jaw and forced him to look upwards, knowing that he would see nothing but the cold embrace of the void. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the first time in centuries, the figure smiled. “You’ll be perfect.” he said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boy slumped forward as life slipped between his fingers, eyes closing, body dissipating into stardust as he hit the ground. It would hardly be the last time, of course. Sooner or later he would wake back up in the Final World to fight against Yozora one last time, like he had done so for a year. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though, considering the damage done, that fight could very well be the last. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master smiled as the universe watched on. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you've read The Deluded God, you know my characterization of the MoM is... I guess he justifies arrogance through resignation, in a way. Darkness must prevail, light must expire while the universe does nothing but watch. Nothing I can do about it, might as well play god.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Head in the Clouds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There were only two things that were alive in this city, and both of them wanted to kill him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The city itself was completely abandoned; car keys hung listlessly in the ignition of a car, the window half open, and a coat carelessly laid in the back seat, the owner of all of nowhere to be found. Bags of all different sizes, from school backpacks to elegant purses to hard briefcases lined the empty seats of a bus, stopped in front of a crosswalk like a ballerina en pointe. Even the colorful neon lights crawling up the signs of buildings, which seemed to breathe life into the city when he first saw them, flickered and dimmed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It occurred to him that he should probably think that he belonged here. It was like someone pressing mechanical buttons in his mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hey, now it's time to feel warmth. Now it’s time to feel acceptance</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Words on a page he was starting at but not reading. He was vaguely aware that he should be horrified at this new situation. He thought maybe he could hear someone in the distance scream. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he closed his eyes, he could see a vast sea, scattered perceptions of who he used lying in his perpetual vision like islands smothered in fog. He didn’t know where he was or why he was there. But his mind hung onto something with a vice-like grip— he had to go back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t even know why, but he knew he had to. Riku, Kairi, Roxas, Ventus, Lea, Aqua, Terra, Naminé, Xion— too numerous to ever name them all. He remembered having such a visceral reaction to them, an urge to help and to defend, no matter what. Oddly enough, he still felt it, a sharp tug at his chest, the ties his shattered heart still retained being strained and pulled. Those weren’t reasons, not exactly— he didn’t understand them— but close enough. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he ran. You couldn’t fight without a weapon, couldn’t win without a weapon, and he knew he could not lose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t know why he knew that, only that if he did, he would never be able to keep his promise. A paralyzing stinging cold shot through his left hand whenever he so much as considered it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked. His hand was raised in front him. He didn't know why he kept trying to summon the keyblade. This was hardly the first time he tried and failed to do so. Was that instinct ingrained into him from the past year as well? Or was that his heart trying to reach out to him? He sighed as he lowered it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, so here you are,” someone called. He didn’t have to look to see who had spoken, simply bolted in the opposite direction of the voice. “You can’t run forever, you know.” the voice continued. The volume hadn’t changed, meaning that the speaker was following him this time, instead of just parking himself on a far away rooftop and watching. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure enough, he turned his head up to see a figure in a black coat, the edges still fluttering from running after him. As far as he knew, there was no rhyme or reason as to when the figure would or would not pursue him. That was worrying, considering Yozora’s repeated cycles of attacks saved his life when he began to lose his abilities. Marginally less worrying was the fact that the figure hadn’t tried to kill him again, though he remembered all too well what happened the last time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grimaced. If the figure had found him, Yozora would not be far behind. How Yozora could pinpoint his exact location without fail in the vast city he couldn’t even comprehend, but it kept him moving, even when his lung ached and his breath turned heavy. He could not win without a weapon. The only thing he could do now was keep running. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stopped at a tall building, the one with the red large number 104 glowing on the side. No matter where he seemed to run, he always seemed to end up here. He looked around, trying to  see exactly where the man had gone, where Yozora was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The city was as still as a graveyard he saw last, as much as the Graveyard before it had been possessed by a terrible life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he held out for just a bit longer, would he see the sun again? If he ran and ran in one direction, would he eventually reach the ocean? He wanted so much to be back on Destiny Islands just one last time more time, to hear something that wasn't the clang of metal against metal or his desperate pleas, to feel the sand graze the calluses on his fingers from fighting for so long non-stop. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But dreams were for dreamers, not the dead. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fun fact: Throughout this chapter, Sora’s name is never mentioned. Not once.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you enjoyed!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>